


In Which What You Do Not Know Is More Important Than What You Do

by Shironeko_kohai



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, First Kiss, In which Crowley is about as gay for Aziraphale as I am, M/M, POV Second Person, Pining, Self-Hatred, mlm author
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-22
Updated: 2017-03-22
Packaged: 2018-10-09 08:05:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10407621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shironeko_kohai/pseuds/Shironeko_kohai
Summary: You do not claim to know anything except how to live with all of your records turning into Queen albums after two weeks, how to keep plants properly terrified, and not to let the twice weekly dinners you have with your angel feel too much like actual dates.You do not know how to stop thinking of him as your angel. You do, however, know how to lie to yourself about that. (You also know how to lie to yourself about the twice weekly dinners. You know that one the best of all your lies. It is, after all, the least true.)





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Pollution](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pollution/gifts).



> wow my gay was showing when I wrote this so it's extra gay
> 
> I really like boys sue me
> 
> also thanks for making me read this book Olivia

You were not created with the ability to love. You were not created for the purpose of doing good. You were created for temptation. You were placed into a black and white world as a snake in a garden holding an apple. You saw the world in black and white for millennia. He did as well. He said he did, at least. You believed him then. Looking back, however, it’s clear his worldview was never as simple as you thought it to be. As you both thought it to be. He was the only truly righteous being to come out of a world angels and demons alike were trying to end.

You were not created with the ability to love. You were not created for the purpose of further creation. You were created for destruction. You were placed into the world by an uncaring deity and forced to fight a war you had nothing and everything to do with. You were pitted against him and he was Good and you were Bad and nothing mattered but the titles. It took you centuries to realize that the sides were made up. He couldn’t figure it out without your help. He said he couldn’t at least. Part of you thinks that he knew all along, but just couldn’t parse the information properly. Part of you thinks that you both knew all along. You never did question why he gave Eve fire against direct orders from the side that called itself Good.

You were not created with the ability to love, or so you thought. You were not created for the purpose of averting the apocalypse, but you did that despite everything. You have done many things you were not supposed to. You have broken through the formatting of the very universe, or at least what you were always told the format was. You are a demon with a car full of Queen and a house full of potted plants and a heart full of love for an angel.

You were not supposed to have a heart, or so you have been told for as long as you can remember. Your memory stretches backwards for millennia, but not once has someone with true authority told you anything about how things are supposed to be. Angels scorn humans for claiming to know the will of God, but they are no different. You do not claim to know anything except how to live with all of your records turning into Queen albums after two weeks, how to keep plants properly terrified, and not to let the twice weekly dinners you have with your angel feel too much like actual dates.

You do not know how to stop thinking of him as your angel. You do, however, know how to lie to yourself about that. (You also know how to lie to yourself about the twice weekly dinners. You know that one the best of all your lies. It is, after all, the least true.)

There are things you want to know that you cannot know. This is something unfamiliar to you. Knowledge is rarely freely given, but most things, you’ve found, can be taken quite easily if you know what you’re doing.

Not having the knowledge you desire isn’t unfamiliar. The unfamiliar part is that for the first time in your life you have no idea what you’re doing. The unfamiliar part is that the knowledge you desire is unlike anything you’ve ever desired.

You want to know what he looks like as he sleeps, whether he drools or snores or does anything else you tell yourself you would absolutely use to make fun of him. (He doesn’t sleep. He says it’s pointless.)

You want to know what his lips would feel like under yours, how his cheeks would squish in your hands as you held him closer than you ever have. Closer than you ever dreamed you could want to. (This is another lie. You have dreamed of him many times.)

You want to know the feeling of his wings wrapped around you, the precise feeling of his feathers across your cheeks as you fly together. You wonder when you became such a romantic. (You know that the answer to this is the exact moment you fell in love with an angel.)

You do know that he has no room in his heart for fallen angels. His heart is full of old books and dead languages and hot chocolate that he forgets to drink until it is neither hot nor chocolate. (This is not his heart. This is your heart, full of all the things you love about him and all the things you hate about yourself. You have no idea whether his heart has room for you or not. Part of you hopes that it does. Part of you hopes that it does not. You cannot decide which part you hate more.)

He kisses you in his store one day, slowly and without any of the doubts you have never been able to see past. As you break away, the words that come up through your throat and get caught behind your teeth are “I didn’t know you were gay,” as if you’ve forgotten that neither of you have ever had a gender. (What you really forgot was that neither of you are human. You have never felt more human than you do in this moment. You forget to hate it until you get home that night.)

He loves you as you have never been able to love yourself, and there is still a part of you that wishes he didn’t, but by now you have decided that that is the part you hate. The only part of yourself you can no longer hate is the part that loves him. (You could never hate that part. You have stopped lying to yourself about that.)

(You no longer attempt to correct yourself whenever you call him your angel. He has told you many times now that he is. You have begun to think it possible that you were created not only with the ability, but with the purpose of loving him.)


End file.
